You crawl up into your bed and pull the worn thin blanket over your head
Trying hard to momentarily escape the touch you feel
What is the worth of soul and skin? Price plummets down
As each one comes in
As if such short-armed men could ever reach that sacred place

I am the God of Rahab I see past flesh and culture
Never do I mistake the songbird for the vulture
Your life burns pure before my eyes
I name the virgin and I crush the flies
They dress you in scarlet but all that I know
Is the child you are is white like the snow

Bankok sun creeps out red-faced but without shame
It knits in fire upon the hills the purity of your name
Other names are knitted too but black the thread
They form a noose rising slowly but steadily
A gallows for grown men to hang their own hearts

Pour from your soul the rice your family needs to eat
Like Mary pouring oil on the Son of God s feet
A child should sleep thru the dark in peace
Another night s over, light comes to the east
Pull your blanket over our head it s us who are dead